


I Want Every Other Freckle

by srk1o3



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (will add more tags later just wanna get this started), Bitterness, Bottom!Sam, Drunk bros, Jealousy, M/M, POV Sam Winchester, Sexual Tension Between Bros, Stanford Era, Unrequited Love, alsogayforsambuttryingnottobe!dean, angsty!bros, except it's totally fucking requited, gay gay gay gay unrequited gayness, jealous!Sam, mixed signals of the gay bro variety, probablyjusthollowontheinside!dean, rejected!sam, sorta - Freeform, totallygayfordean!sam, wayyytooemotionallystable!dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2018-11-14 06:06:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 12,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11202021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/srk1o3/pseuds/srk1o3
Summary: Sam tells Dean he loves him.Dean rejects Sam.Sam can't handle it.Neither can Dean.This is a Stanford Era wincest story.





	1. INTRODUCTION

**Author's Note:**

> so I'm thinking of including a soundtrack for all my fics? you can find music at the end of every chapter.
> 
> this is one of those stories that i'm totally uncomfortable writing, but i feel like i need to write. it's kind of just super important to me? it gets harder and harder with each chapter too so. idk i super appreciate it if you read this and go on this stupid angsty wincest journey with me.
> 
> i love you for even clicking on this. 
> 
> hope you are having the loveliest day of you life.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam confesses his deeply gay feels for Dean even though the timing's kind of terrible.

There were a fuck ton of possible responses from Dean but ‘Sammyyy… I’m sorry for the timing of this,’ had not been the shit Sam expected to hear come out of Dean’s mouth. Not after everything they’d been through, not after spontaneously confessing he was (quote, unquote) _in_   _love_ with Dean. _~~What does that even mean?~~_

That’s just – _nope_. What a horrible, horrible mess he’d made. And yes, it was a   _huge_ mess. The entire conversation they’d had; the other people involved; the way it all went down;  _when_ it went down (apparently). All a fuckin’ mess. 

And yet! And yet… Sam and Dean were totally okay. _Supposedly_. (Yeah, right.) They were perfectly perfect except for the way Dean ignores him now. Completely, pretty much. With relative ease, considering Sam’s at Stanford. Yep, it’s all a mess. 

 _Right now?…_ Well, right now, at this moment- all of it’s over. Sam is slunk against his bedside with a glass of rum and soda and his fucking cd player, staring at the wall through blurry hot eyes and you just shut up, okay? You be quiet ‘cause you’re not suppose to see him like this. Nobody is. 

He _knows_. He knows what he looks like. What he feels like. He doesn’t care and he’s not gonna for a while. Not until he has to.

 

* * *

 

Dean’s honey smooth voice over the phone is a sugar sweet sound: “I got into a relationship two and a half months ago so whenever I’m not hauling ass with dad I’m trying to meet up with him.”

Just like that, Sam’s heart stops. Feels like it, at least. But really he’s just holding his cellphone up to his ear with both hands, blinking wide shocked eyes. “…him?”

“M’hm,” Dean says softly, “Uh, yeah… I dunno. We don’t see each other a whole lot so it’s mostly just phonecalls, you know?”

Sam’s breathing picks up.

He hasn’t talked to Dean in _weeks_. Fucking _months_. And now he finds out that Dean’s always on the phone with some guy? A GUY. He’s shaking. His body tenses to try and keep still.

“That’s um? That’s great…! How.. did… how’d you guys meet?” Sam’s voice is breaking into pieces.

“Thanks, Sammy,” says Dean smooth as ever. “We met through hunting. Working on the same case. He’s damn good at what he does. Been teaching me a thing or two.”

“Yeah, I bet.” Sam replies harshly.

“Just sucks that we’re never in the same place, you know.”

 _Neither are we,_ Sam thinks while sitting on his Stanford dorm room bed. That’s the moment he chooses to say, “I’m in love with you, Dean.”

There’s a huge moment of silence then.

Sam’s stomach churns _violently_. His eyes are stinging. He can’t see until the tears fall out but his expression stays put. He hasn’t moved a muscle aside from the way he’s trembling.

“Sammyyy… I’m sorry for the timing of this,” Dean finally announces.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I listened to my professor lecturing while I wrote this.  
> But hey, the fic is named after "Every Other Freckle" by alt-J.


	2. SORELY UNREFINED

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam realizes he can't be a normal dude. He realizes he hates couples but who doesn't fucking hate obnoxious couples? He's gay for Dean because who isn't fucking gay for Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk. There's angst and Sam is a hurt pupayy. Basically making a dang fool outta himself. It's been a while since I wrote spn fic in a non-rp format so I apologize for the severe lack of detail. It's mostly just talking. It's also 4 am and im a corpse.

It's the day after Dean rejected Sam's ass ~~in the nicest, most big brother way possible~~.

Sam is a mess.

 

* * *

 

Last night after that stupid, stupid conversation with Dean he'd wanted to break everything his hands touched, cried in a way that physically threatened him as he listened to Dean's music and drowned himself in this very sudden blindsiding heartache. 

Now he's gotta deal with real life.

There's this girl he's been seeing on and off, messing around with ever since his big move to California- kind of like an unofficial girlfriend of a couple months. No where _near_  an actual girlfriend, but he supposes they're technically 'dating'. It's a foreign concept, for sure. He and her barely know each other and she's got trust issues that target Sam's suspiciously spotty backstory. Not to mention Sam's got an issue or two (or five hundred) of his own; one of them being his dawning realization that he _needs_ Dean all to himself and at all times. Doesn't want anything else, including whatever he has with her. Sam is too heartbroken from last night to think of anything except Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean...

He's standing outside her dorm room waiting for her to answer the door so he can break up with her. 

It goes a little something like this: _I'm sorry but I can't be with you anymore. I don't really want to get into it, but it's just not good timing..._

She quickly becomes pissed and paranoid, _"Oh yeah, why's that?"_  spewing a dramatic litany of accusations, stating sourly over and over _I-knew-it, I-fucking-knew-it, you're a fucking cheater; a liar_. 

Sam immediately leaves because it's just too much, and somehow he is miraculously even more upset than he was before. The truth is he's really not used to getting involved with people like this without a road to look forward to. 

 

* * *

 

Shaken and alone on his walk back to his own dorm building, he dials Dean's phone number, craving comfort. 

"What's up," Dean doesn't even ask. It's a goddamn statement, cold and impatient. ~~And so very unlike Dean~~. But even this hardened tone from Dean feels like home and Sam suddenly wishes like hell he was there in the same room as his brother.

"Not feeling too good, Dean," Sam murmurs. "I just broke up with my girlfriend and I dunno man, she kinda went nuts on me?"

Dean sounds extremely irritated. "What's going on, Sam? I just got this text from a number I don't know saying something about you... I think it's from her."  

"Wait, what?" It feels like Sam's heart just dove into his gut, mouth suddenly dry. "That's not possible? I- I don't- I don't know how she has your number... I swear it's not.... I don't even _talk_ about you."

"-it's fine, Sam. What the hell do you want me to text back saying?"

"Uh... whatever you want, man... seriously, I'm sorry that happened? She must've stalked me or something, Dean, this whole thing is just _so_ dumb. I barely even know her. Hate to say it but it makes me miss home."

"Sam," Dean swallows so loud that Sam can hear it. "I can't talk to you right now, I'm on the other line." 

And that's _it_. That's all it takes for Sam's insides to _churn_. "Oh," he feels like he might puke. "I'm sorry." Can't say much else even if he tried. Feels too goddamn sick all of a sudden. Even _more_ worse than the 'even worse' he felt earlier. 

"It's fine, Sam. Just a stupid text from your ex. Don't worry about it. Seriously." 

"Yeah," Sam agrees, hating everything about everything. "Okay. Um. Thanks, Dean." What he's thanking his brother for he doesn't even fucking know. Actually, Sam feels more than a little shut down and rejected all over again.

"You're fine. Get some rest." 

The line dies and Sam swears to God, it takes something inside his chest with it. 

 

* * *

 

He fucking _cries_ again, Jesus Fucking _Christ_. It starts up the second he's alone in his dorm room.  ~~Thank GOD his roommate isn't due for another few days~~. 

His mind reels and reels and reels, ribs in pain. 

His phone rings and he prays it's Dean.

It's not. "You _stalked_ me."

"I just _knew_ there was something off about you, Sam. And guess what? I texted her. That D girl from your phone that you're _so_ obsessed with."

Sam feels a very real stab of annoyance. He refrains from clarifying that he already knows. Instead he asks tiredly, half humoring and half curious, "What'd she say to you?"

In as poisonous of a tone as she can manage, she says, "She said she's in love with someone else, and wants nothing to do with you. Can't say I blame her." 

And yeah, a lot of shit hurt Sam tonight, but nothing really compares to the pain he feels right then and there. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was brought to you by that song Bad Moon Rising.


	3. FUCKING UNFAIR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam goes through that self pity stage. A fuckin mental breakdown to be real. Roommate ahoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess Sam is just going through the motions here. You know what I'm talking about. You know the thoughts I'm talking about.

~~Someone _else_ is getting everything Sam wants from Dean~~. Doesn't stop him from wanting. Doesn't matter, right? Wanting is the type of thing that doesn't matter. 

 

* * *

 

Sam's first college semester starts in less than one week. Right now he's laid up against a wall in his near empty dorm hugging himself like a scared child.

It's hitting him.

Thoughts are like the ocean, shallow to deep in a heartbeat if you're not careful. Hard to breathe, easy to drown. And tonight's agenda? Drowning, drowning, drowning.

Sam thinks maybe he's losing his fucking mind. 

Because he starts to realize something- Dean gave him reasons to fall in love. ~~_His broth...(no don't use that word, not yet)_~~.

It's true. It _has_ to be true. Because this isn't right! People don't just _spontaneously_ fall in love after months of no contact? Not possible! It doesn't work that way.

Must have been the distance that triggered it; an easy enough pill to swallow. Sam took off to Stanford on a strong whim and he didn't chance a backward glance for months. Apparently, this was one of the ~~many~~  consequences of that decision... emphasis on the ' _apparently_ '. But there's more, there's so much more.

Moments like glimmers on glass, fleeting in existence, but there nonetheless. And maybe Sam is losing his mind because his memory starts collecting them and offering him some type of irrational logic: _here is why you fell in love ~~with your big brot~~ \- with Dean_.

_Here is why you fell in love with someone you weren't suppose to fall in love with._

Seems like a productive thought process until **you-don't-know-what-you-got-till-it's-gone** kicks in.

That's when the booze gets involved. 

It's also when shallow turns to deep.

 

* * *

 

Suddenly Sam is focusing on Dean's new boyfriend (? weird to even _think_ ) and taking a swig out of the bottle of rum he'd bought specifically for tonight's thinking session (okay so maybe the fake IDs were  _still_ coming in handy). This isn't like Dean. It's not like him to just jump into something like that. Dean didn't even believe in that romantic shit... ~~_did he?! DID he?! What if he did??_~~

What if this new guy is a replacement? What if he's similar to Sam? What if he has long dark hair and hazel eyes? What if --- 

What if he's _nothing_ like Sam.

What if he's got one of Dean's cassettes, one of Dean's comfy shirts? What if he's seen Dean asleep and vulnerable. What if Dean _trusts_ him? He's a hunter too, so... Dean _must_ trust him. What if Dean wants to protect him? 

What if they're fucking right now. 

What if Sam vomits because he's pretty sure you're not suppose to drink _that_ much rum as fast as he _just_ did. Sam's expression is all screwed up from the shitty taste as he eyes the bottle warily. He feels his heart pounding and he's not sure from what, but he knows for a fact that the liquor is gonna kick in and save him very soon. 

You know what??? He doesn't care. 

He has his own stuff from Dean. Things he'd grabbed on his way out. Yeah. He's got his own AC/DC t-shirt and two (count them) TWO cassettes. He's got a bead bracelet that Dean's probably never going to know went missing and he has Dean's hand writing on this stupid notebook from some research they'd been doing. See? He has his own Dean stuff!...

Stuff that Dean would probably prefer burned than in Sam's  ~~incestuous~~  possession. ~~Another swig of liquor~~. 

He rushes into the bathroom after that one, vomits a little. And then he drinks some more. Doesn't want the high to wear off. Fuck.

The cell phone's on the nightstand and Sam lunges for it, wanting so desperately to talk to Dean. The words "I'm on the other line" ring in his head though and Sam really, really, really can't take more rejection. He doesn't want to bother Dean in the middle of phone sex or something. Loneliness plunges into him like a knife through butter, gut is probably making a ton of butter from its consistent churning. 

Maybe he should call his ex. Why the fuck should he be lonely when Dean clearly isn't? 

Instead Sam calls his dad. 

And then immediately fucking hangs up because what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck. 

He waits anxiously for the phone to ring but Dad doesn't call back and the next thing Sam knows, he's sinking to floor, laughing a little, drunky drinky drunk. 

Laughing about how goddamn alone he is. How nobody cares.

He's alone.

He wonders how much Dean's new boyfriend wants Dean- loves him, even. Sam bets it's a lot. Dean's a fucking mess, sure that's obvious, but he's hot and he's addicting and he's all consuming.

"He's mine," Sam slouches, goes to take another swig of liquor.

"Um, what the fuck?"

Sam jerks and spills rum on his chin and cheek. " _Whothef-whathefu?!_ " His gaze darts towards... holy shit... someone else in the room.

"It's Sam, right?" The guy ~~who definitely isn't Dean~~ asks.

Sam blinks his eyes a few times and then says, "Phil Jones, local plumber.." because alias, right? He should use the fuckin alias. Now is a very good time for an alias. 

"... Uhhh... well. Why are you... drunk on the floor?"

"I live here." Sam blurts defensively. 

The guy squints and Sam realizes he's got luggage next to him. "Well then. I guess we're gonna be roomies, Phil Jones the local plumber." He walks towards Sam and extends his arm. "Tyson Brady. You got some vomit on your shirt there." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was brought to you by the song "Jenny" by Studio Killers. On motherfucking repeat. While I stabbed myself. With a machete.


	4. BRADY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The start of Sam and Brady's friendship + a desperate phonecall with Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do you ever write something because you feel like you have to write it? even if it hurts to write and you're probably subconsciously giving urself a brain tumor. this is one of those things for me. I HAD TO DO IT and my heart wasn't entirely in this because it was hard to get my heart to be? just a tough scene to write. this entire fic is hard to write lmao. but im literally doing it cause i feel like i need to idk? idkidkidk sighs into a cup of coffee. anyways so im sorry if it sucks but it HAD to happen and it happened so that's good. and i did it! also hey what's up? hope you're having an incredibly amazingly nice day. 
> 
> i love you for reading this. you do not know how much it means to me. xo
> 
> oh gosh why did this hurt so much

It's around 9:00 PM when Sam and Tyson shake hands for the first time. Sam is drunk and Tyson is tired.

It goes a little something like this. 

 

* * *

 

"Do you need some help, Phil Jones?" his roommate asks gently as he can.

"Nnnn-no I'm, a nngh- I'm a good, just... I just- I, no I'm," Sam stutters back.

"Alrighty then." This new guy claps his hands together and stands up straight. "I feel like I should leave you alone but at the same time I feel like-  _I shouldn't_." 

"M'fine," Sam states firmly. 

"Yeah. Okay, well. Your name better be _Sam friggen Winchester_. I'm gonna..." he pauses then, looks around the room like he's completely unsure. "... I dunno." His eyes fall onto Sam's face once more, gaze lingering.

Sam keeps quiet. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm Sam," he frowns. "M'sorry I jus- nice t'meet you Brady." It sounds totally fake but Sam can't be bothered to care.

"You can call me Tyson."

Sam shrugs, his own gaze falling away from Brady and back onto the phone. 

"Okay, c'mon. Who is she, what's her name?" Brady asks with a tiny grin. He gets down to Sam's level just then, perched on his knees. "You can tell me. We're officially brothers now." 

That grabs Sam's attention and holds on tight. He knows his face is tear stricken stupid and probably red, if not pale. If only he weren't drunk right now maybe he'd be able to filter what comes out of his mouth next. 

" _His_ name is _Dean_."

Brady goes silent.

Sam searches Brady's face and comprehends nothing as he continues, teeth gritted and voice low, like he's forcing the words out. "And I'm stuck here  _in_ _love_ with him while he's _in love_ with _someone else_  and I dunno where this shit came from and it's bad timing and-" 

"Hey. Hey. Woa okay, listen- listen," Brady's reaching out with both arms now, hands resting on Sam's shoulders as he takes a hold and centers them both. "It's okay, whatever you're feeling- it's okay. _It'll be okay_." There's this sympathetic look on Brady's face that Sam isn't sure _what_ to make of. 

He looks away and mumbles. "You don't get it." 

For a second Brady looks rightfully annoyed, but he keeps his tone soft. "Yeah but I will. Hmm, right? I will once you _tell_ me." Brady tries for a smile then but it falters. "C'mon man, you're wasted and I mean, there's vomit on your shirt. I just got here. Let's get you some water, or whatever." He gives Sam's shoulder a pat and then gets back up again, disappearing into the bathroom. 

Sam leans his head back against the wall and realizes how dramatic he just came off as. "Shit," he sighs, pushing himself off the ground. The room is spinning and his heart is lodged into his throat.

He walks towards the bathroom, hears the water running. 

Brady smiles at him from the mirror and all Sam can think of is Dean. 

"Dude," he laughs. "You're freakin' tall. Um," a pause, "You okay?" 

Sam has no idea how to respond. He waves an arm and then slides both his hands down into his back pockets. "M'not always like this."

Brady nods and breaks their eye contact in the mirror, looking down again. He's still sort of grinning as he mutters, "Shit dude, you better not be."

"I need some air." Sam says softly. 

"Yeah, go 'head," Brady's turns and holds an open water bottle out to Sam. "I just filled it up 'cause it was like, almost done. Drink it." When Sam doesn't move Brady adds, "Seriously, dude. I just got in and I am, like, so totally exhausted," Brady smiles apologetically.

Sam takes the water bottle from Brady before he can finish talking. "M'so drunk," he mumbles miserably.

"I get that." Brady sorta nods and then Sam turns away, heads for the door. 

  

* * *

 

"Sam?"

The cool air feels good even though his stomach and head won't stop twisting and turning. He couldn't help himself, needed to hear Dean's voice.

"Sam? You okay?"

Sam has no idea what to say into the cellphone he's pressing against his ear. "Miss you, Dean."

There's a moment of silence and then Dean says, "Jesus, Sammy," The nickname makes Sam's heart jump despite how it's colored with agitation. "Is _this_ why you're calling me?"

"Pretty much." 

Even through the reception, Sam can hear the way Dean swallows, can hear the clicking of his throat. "Don't do this, Sam. I'm serious."

"I prolly came off asssuch a weirdo thother night.." he slurs nonchalantly. 

"You're drunk."

"M'sorry if I bothered you," Sam's voice slips and he finds himself sucking in a huge breath.

"You didn't. But you are right now."

Sam blinks a few times. "M'sorry..."

"Will you stop saying that?" Dean's phone voice sounds distant but strict and it's like the temperature around Sam drops, the dark becomes darker. " _You're_ the one who left."

Sam's breath hitches. "Dean-"

"But there isn't anything else to be said about it right now. I'm really sorry about the timing of this, Sam, but you have to let it go. It's been _months_  since you left; things are different now. This guy I'm seeing is meeting up with me, driving sixteen hours just to spend a week with me and he'll be here tomorrow. You know something? I actually _care_ about him, Sam. I actually give a shit what he thinks. For once I'm able to be honest with someone about the shit we do." Dean pauses, takes a breath and then says, "I told him about all of this, too. He knows about you, he knows about dad. About mom. He's important to me."

Sam tries not to sound hysterical when he apologizes again.

Dean sounds like he's trying not to sound tired when he responds saying, "You're fine. You're my little brother, Sam. You're more important to me than- than all of whatever the fuck this is."

Sam nods even though Dean can't see.

"Drink some water, you hear me?"

"Yeah, Brady gave me some."

"Who?"

"My roommate."

"Oh. That's good." Dean sighs into the line and then says, "You all right?" 

 _Fuck no._ "Yeah. Dean?" Sam hates how he shakes every time he talks to Dean these days.

"Hm?"

It feels weird to lie to Dean but Sam does it anyways, "I'm happy for you." 

"Thanks." Dean says and everything couldn't possibly feel more wrong. "Night, Sam."

"Night, Dean."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Tessellate" by alt-J  
> (Can you tell I'm a huge alt-J fan?
> 
> They used to play this band on repeat at this cafe me and my best friend used to go to before class and now every time I hear it I think of feeling 100% comfy and safe.)


	5. VILE CANDY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the morning after a drunk night. Sam fantasizes about Dean. (No, not like that. Not yet, anyway.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this really late. i was like, so tired so it's short. <3  
> i hope you are having an easy and peaceful day.

Sam wakes up on his bare mattress. He's facing the bed across from him.

Brady's laying there asleep in his dark blue boxers.

 

* * *

 

When Sam comes out of their tiny bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, Brady's awake. They make eye contact.

Brady's sitting on the edge of his bed all hunched forward and blinking up at Sam through blond eyelashes.

Still mortified from the previous night, Sam manages to say, "God. Listen, I'm-" 

"Don't worry about it." Brady waves Sam off before getting up and turning to lean over and rummage through his luggage. "Hung over?" He asks, popping up to his full height and turning to Sam, his own bath towel in hand.

Sam sighs a quiet, "Yeah."

"Good. You totally deserve it," he smiles.  

Sam huffs, attempts to smile back but mostly just watches Brady. Now that they're standing next to each other Sam can tell that Brady is taller than Dean. Blond and tanned, razor sharp cheekbones and soft rosy lips. "Thanks, Tyson."

"You know, I actually kinda like it when you call me Brady. It's got a nice ring to it," he's smirking as he says it.

The comment catches Sam off guard. He presses his lips together and drops his gaze. 

Brady gives a nod, eyes roving over Sam before he also drops his head and eyes the floor. 

There's an awkward silence before Sam moves to grab own duffle bag. 

"Is that your only luggage?" Brady asks.

"Yep."

Another moment passes before Brady closes himself in the bathroom.

Sam removes his towel.

  

> A thirteen year old Sam shrieks with chattering teeth through the shower curtain, " _F-FUCK_  this fffuckin' place. My fuckin' balls are gonna fffall off."
> 
> "You been in there, like, two whole seconds, Sammy," Dean groans around the toothbrush in his mouth. 
> 
> "Uggggghhheeergggghh," Sam shakily moans, miserably and vigorously rubbing the bar of soap all over his skinny little body. It's the middle of December and this motel has apparently been without heat and hot water for the last two weeks. Sam's pretty sure he already has stage four pneumonia. 
> 
> Next thing Sam knows Dean is tugging the shower curtain open, hopping in and crowding in on Sam's ice cold shower. Sam's eyes go wide when Dean starts singing _Froooooostyyy the Snowmaaan_ , foam falling out of his mouth, toothbrush still in hand.
> 
> "DUDE!" Sam shouts over the off key singing (" _Was a jollly, haaaappy souuul!!" Dean cries out_ ) and there's a faint but stern " _Boys, behave!"_  coming from their father in the living room. 
> 
> " _With a corn-cob pipe-_ " Dean reaches down between Sam's legs and Sam instantly copies the movement to knock Dean's hands away, " _and a button nose-_ " Dean continues, fingers closing around the tip of Sam's nose and Sam turns his head, annoyed yet unable to hold back a smile. "Got yer nose, F-Frosty," Dean's smirks even despite how hard he's trembling.  
> 
> "Hate you," Sam chatters,  ~~but the smile's still there~~. 
> 
> Dean's opening his mouth to catch water in it and then he's rinsing and spitting it out before breaking into the next verse of the Frosty song, gleefully wrapping his arms around Sam to keep them both warm even despite the way Sam tries to wriggle free. 

  

After last night's cold conversation with Dean, the memory just makes him feels sick. Dean was just being a big brother and Sam's skewing the memory in his head, making it out to be more than it was. Sam wonders how Dean jokes around with his new boyfriend. Realizes they're going to be together soon and there's nothing he can do or say about it in his Stanford dorm room. It shouldn't bother him that his brother decided to find a new partner. But it does.

Brady comes out of the shower and offers to take them out for breakfast and shopping since apparently he has his car on campus. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was brought to you by "Pay the Man" by Foster The People


	6. REALITY CHECK

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam flirts with a car. Clothes are expensive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey :) the most important thing i'd like to say is: i hope you are having a WONDERFUL day. i'm sorry if there are any typos, i didn't get a chance to proofread :P

On their way to Brady's car they run into some of their dorm-mates, all of whom are polite enough but Sam quickly realizes how lucky he got with Tyson Brady, especially given how they first met. There's something soft about him, and from what Sam can remember from last night, he'd been extremely accepting and supportive. 

It's a little weird getting into Brady's brand new silver sedan. It smells like leather and Brady's designer cologne, crisp and expensive. The Beach Boys come on right in the middle of one of their upbeat tunes and Sam feels out of place. 

"Sweet ride, man," he says. 

" _Thank_ you," Brady grins, sounding a little smug as he turns the music down, puts the AC on low. 

"Your interior is, _wow_ \- really bright." Everything's beige and Sam's paranoid he's going to mess it up. 

"You good?" Brady's curious gaze travels over Sam as he reverses and starts driving. 

"Yeah, it's just. A really nice car." 

"Get's me from point A to point B," Brady offers something of a light chuckle, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Gives a smooth drive." Sam adds as he looks out the window. 

They fall into silence and Sam starts to realize that even though Brady _does_ kind of resemble Dean, he's not as infatuated with his car. It seems ridiculous after a moment, but it hits Sam hard that he's shocked Brady's so indifferent towards his car. Christ, Sam can't believe that he felt as cautious as he did while complimenting the sedan (did he actually check the interior out?? Like, _check_ -check it out?), and he starts to wonder just how deep his messy  _Dean_ - _complex_ goes. He runs his hands all over his face and leans back in his seat, forcing himself to relax. 

"So yeah, should I leave you and my car alone?" Brady asks and then Sam stiffens all over again. Brady laughs and elbows Sam on the arm.

Sam laughs as well, groaning out an, "Ohhh god, you know what it is? It's my bother; he's really into them. Like _really_ into them."

"Ohh, you got a brother?" Brady keeps smiling as he says, "And he's car-sexual."

" _Exactly._ Dean's _very_ car-sexual _._ "

"His name's Dean?"

Sam nods, still grinning.

Brady nods, eyes trained on the road, "That's cool, that's cool. What kind of car does, um, Dean have?"

Sam rolls his eyes, "A '67 Impala."

Brady takes a deep breath, shifting his hold on the wheel, "Wow, that's old."

Sam laughs, "Damn straight."

Brady smiles, but doesn't quite laugh.

 

* * *

 

"So how's your head?" Brady asks as they study the Denny's menu.

"Took some advil while you were in the shower."

"What... exactly... happened last night?" Brady asks, still reading the menu.

Sam glances up at Brady and then lowers his gaze to Brady's hands as they turn the huge plastic food covered page. He purposely hasn't thought much about the events of last night, but he knows he called Dean, knows Dean pretty much yelled at him. But then again he remembers Dean also called him _important_ at one point. And really, that made it all worth it. 

"I drank wayy too much," Sam mumbles. 

"Yes, you did."

"And you walked in on me right-" Sam freezes, gaze hardening with a sudden recollection, "-after I threw up."

"You had vomit all over your shirt, it was like walking into The Exorcist movie," Brady looks up and smiles at Sam, fondly somehow, but Sam cringes at the reference. 

Sam hesitates then, asking softly, "What did I say to you?" 

"You were really drunk, man. It was hard to understand you."

" _Shit_." Sam can't help the sudden sharp exhale, dropping his head, long hair falling forward to cover most his face.

"Seriously, don't worry, Sam. You were like, slurring and going on about your ex-boyfriend, I think."

"My ex- _oh God_..." 

The waitress chooses that particular moment to drop their coffees off and take their orders. After she leaves Brady leans forward, both hands wrapped around his coffee cup.

"Hey, um," he shrugs one shoulder and says, "I'm not sure but I think I might be bisexual, so... _seriously_ , I'm not gonna judge you. And I won't tell anyone if you're uncomfortable."

Sam feels a series of sharp pinches in his cheeks, head starting to spin a little faster, harder. "I'm really sorry about last night."

"Dude, it's fine. I mean, I'm kinda going through a break up too, so... I really felt for you."

Sam remains silent for a moment, taking it all in. "Sorry to hear that," he watches as Brady takes a sip of his coffee. "I promise you I'm not... a drunk. That was like, the worst timing."

Brady lifts an eyebrow. "I prefer to think of it as pretty good timing actually, since I was there to take care of you."

Sam goes quiet for a few seconds too long before he murmurs, "You're too fuckin' nice, man."

"Hey- if I were in your place, I'd hope for someone to do the same for me."

Sam meets Brady's eyes and decides that he absolutely would. 

 

* * *

 

They end up in Target afterwards. 

Fucking _Target_. Not even Wal-Mart, but _Target_.

Dean and Dad would _never_. **Ever**. Shop at Target. They wouldn't even shop at Wal-Mart.

They split up and Sam heads towards the clothes section. He really doesn't have money to waste but figures he needs to start wearing some new shit if only for his mental health. Decides to get two shirts, a pair of pants, a belt, some boxers. He can't deny that shopping for actual new, stylish clothing actually makes him feel rather spiffy. 

 

> "PLEASE, dad??!" An eight year old Sam howls from the backseat.
> 
> "No." John's driving steadily, unflinching. It's seven in the morning and they're on their way to The Salvation Army. Sam wants to go to Wal-Mart instead, though.
> 
> "DAD, _please_?"
> 
> "No."
> 
> "But dad, hear me out... they have _new_ stuff for sale there. Actual _new_ stuff."
> 
> "Sammy, you're damn lucky I'm half asleep right now."
> 
> Dean shifts in the passenger seat, "Want me to drive, sir?"
> 
> John grunts, "Son, you're twelve. Thanks though."
> 
> "Please, _SIR_." Sam tries.
> 
> "Sammy, are you frickin serious right now?" John eyes the rearview for a hot second before refocusing on the road.
> 
> Dean turns to Sam. "Please shut up, Sammy."
> 
> " _Hey_. Don't talk to your brother like that, Dean. Face forward, please."
> 
> Dean scowls and turns to face forward.
> 
> Sam grins, smug. "So does that mean we're going to Wal-Mart instead of the hand-me-down-store?"
> 
> "Boy, if I hear another peep from you about Wal-Mart I'ma pull over and let Dean whoop your ass."
> 
> "I would _totally_  whoop Dean's butt!!" Sam immediately defends himself.
> 
> "Yeah right!" Dean yelps, spinning lightening fast in his seat to glare at Sam. "Last time we sparred I-"
> 
> " _DEAN_." John interrupts, "What'd I _say_ about facing forwards?"
> 
> "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir..." Dean's expression turns sullen as he turns to face forwards again.
> 
> Sam chuckles from the backseat and next thing he knows Dean is up and at it, climbing over the cushions and falling onto the back seat next to Sam while John hollers out _HEYHEYHEY...STOP_ \- _be CAREFUL, Jesus, Dean_. 
> 
> Sam's eyes go wide and he starts screaming out, "DAAAD!?! DADD!!? DAD?!!"
> 
> "Arite. Partially my fault, I guess," John mumbles to himself, driving calm as ever.
> 
> "I'll whoop YOUR butt, Sammy!" Dean growls as he starts tickling Sam everywhere, Sam scream-giggling, if such a thing were possible.
> 
> John steals several glances in the rearview but let's it slide. 
> 
> " _DAAAD???_ " Sam whines between his little boy laughter. 
> 
> John ignores it, stating simply, "Put your seat belts on when your done." 
> 
> Sam ends up breathless and smiling so hard it hurts while smushed up against Dean when John pulls into a parking spot at The Salvation Army.

 

"$86.10 is your total," The Target cashier tells Sam.

 _Holy shit_ , he thinks to himself, pulling out his wallet to dish out the exact change. _No wonder we stuck to thrift stores_.

"You ready to go?" Brady asks, holding onto his own bags as he reconvenes with Sam near the cash registers. 

"Yeah, let's get outta here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was totally in class when I wrote this entire thing lol. We watched a movie called Red Dawn and it was boring as heck.


	7. BISEXUAL

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's talk about sexuality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey - so. yes.  
> whoever you are and whatever happened to you today, i hope you're doing okay :)

Sam and Brady end up spending the rest of the day together. Brady drags Sam to the mall and a few other stores. When Sam keeps refusing to buy anything because he's low on cash, Brady starts offering to buy stuff _for_ Sam.

It's at this point when Brady's intentions become alarmingly foggy; Brady's a little too generous, a little too nice.

Sam's not sure if it's a red flag, wishful thinking or a defense mechanism against the deafening reality that Dean's currently meeting up with his new boyfriend for an entire week of romance and sex. 

 

> It's 3:30 AM and Sam is sixteen years old. 
> 
> He and Dean are both sitting on the couch in their pajamas. Dean is shirtless in his boxers, hair disheveled. Sam's wearing a huge t-shirt and some baggy Christmas themed cotton pants. They're both dead silent except for Dean's harsh breathing.
> 
> Sam's stares down at the floor, tired and upset. 
> 
> An engine revs from the outside, noise muffled by the walls. The sound of a car driving away fades into the night.
> 
> Dean finally breaks the silence. "Sammy, _please... please..._  don't tell dad."
> 
> Sam's annoyed because this isn't the first time Dean's begged him not to tell Dad. Actually, the first time was when he walked into the bathroom half asleep only to find Dean getting his dick sucked by another man. Not his fault he woke up in the middle of the night.
> 
> "What the fuck is _wrong_ with you?" Sam rasps. Dean remains silent so Sam looks up and sees a version of his brother that he's never seen before. Dean looks _so_ fucking hurt and weak. It only makes Sam even more angry. "What if _Dad_ was the one who walked in on you just now?"
> 
> Dean stays silent. 
> 
> It's hard to shake the visual of Dean sprawled against the bathroom sink, both hands gripping the edge, legs spread indecently with another dude crouched right in between them. Sam's not sure he'll ever forget the breathless way Dean had said _Shit... Sammy...stop stop...my little brother_... "So you're bisexual."
> 
> "No." Dean immediately says, voice way too convinced and solid given the situation. 
> 
> "You're gay?"
> 
> "Shut the hell up, Sam- no."
> 
> "You were just shoving your PENIS down some other DUDE'S throat!"
> 
> "DUDE, I SAID I'm not gay!"
> 
> Sam's pretty sure he looks just as horrified as he feels. "You can't be serious..."
> 
> Dean grabs Sam's thin arm _hard_ then. "I am  _very_  fucking serious, Sam. Don't you _dare_ tell Dad."
> 
> Sam jerks away from the touch but Dean doesn't let go. "Who even _was_ that guy, Dean?" Sam demands, thinking back to the scene he'd witnessed in their bathroom, the way the stranger's head had been bobbing. Sam hadn't been able to see Dean's actual dick but he can only assume it was hard as hell.
> 
> "Who fucking cares?"
> 
> "I DO." Sam's own cock gives a feeble twitch inside his underwear and he groans out, "Don't fucking TOUCH me right now!" 
> 
> Dean immediately lets go of Sam's arm, jaw clenching as he eyes Sam hard. "You think I'm gross, Sammy?"
> 
> "Stop calling me that!" 
> 
> "You think I'm _sick_ or something?"
> 
> "Dean, why didn't you _tell_ me?"
> 
> Dean shakes his head slowly, blinking his eyes and looking away, disappointment drenching his features. It takes a few seconds but he finally says in a much softer voice, "Because."
> 
> "You should of told me."
> 
> All at once Dean looks incredibly offended, "It has _nothing_ to do with you, Sam!"
> 
> Sam looks away then, nodding and angry still. "Look I won't ever tell Dad, okay? Gonna do my goddamn best to _never_ think about any of this _ever_ again." With that he gets up off the couch and heads towards his bed, but his cock is still twitching and all he wants to do is reach into his pants and rip his dick off. 

 

"So why do you think you're bisexual anyways?" Sam blurts out while he and Brady sit on their tiny dorm room beds, chewing on pizza slices.

Brady slows his eating, swallows whatever's in his mouth and shrugs his shoulders. "I'm just attracted to guys. Wanna try stuff with them, I guess." 

"But you're not sure."

"Um," Brady chuckles, "Yeah, exactly. Like... what if it doesn't feel good?"

Sam's taps the corner of a napkin against his lips, "What would you do if I told you it felt _amazing_?"

The two of them fall awfully silent for a few long seconds.

There's a soft red blush working its way up Brady's neck, "I'd tell you that it's been too long since I felt amazing."

Sam nods slow, shifting his attention back to his pizza as he takes another bite. He feels Brady's eyes on him but doesn't look up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I listened to Mask Off (Marshmallow Remix) by Future & Marshmallow. Lol his name is Marshmallow though.


	8. MOVIE NIGHT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Brady try to have a chill night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while. A combination of school, work and my own mixed feelings towards this fic have rendered me here. I almost deleted it tbh lol.
> 
> I'm pretty sure I'm taking this story into a whole new direction starting now. 
> 
> If there are typos i'm sorry. It's late and I'm dying. I am one with death atm

**Three Weeks Later**

School's started and it turns out with the exception of tuition and book costs, college is _way_ easier than high school ever was. The days are more broken apart and people are quieter. He finds himself walking outside a lot which is neat, moving from one building to another. The campus is huge and maybe a small part of him feels lonely. But at least he has Brady back in his dorm. 

Mentally, Sam's still kind of a mess but school is an _amazing_ distraction. It's simple enough to switch his focus to mastering deadlines and staying ahead in his classes. The work study program is pretty lame so he keeps his second job and juggles them both, kind of gets off with identifying as a workaholic. Can't help but smile every time Brady tells him to chill the fuck out and get some rest.

 ~~Sam's trying like hell not to think about his brother~~.

It's Saturday night when he and Brady are watching some movie on Brady's laptop. They're both sitting in Sam's bed with some red solo cups of mixed drinks, courtesy of Brady. (Neither of them are big on weekend parties.)

"What the hell are we drinking?" Sam eyes the liquid in his cup for a moment before glancing at Brady.

"Sprite Zero and Sour Apple Burnetts."

"It's gross." Sam scowls. 

"Not strong enough for you?" Brady deadpans.

" _Too_ strong - in its own way," Sam's still scowling when he (hesitates) goes in for another sip. He just wishes he could watch Dean and Dad take a sip of this shit. The thought makes his stomach churn excitedly for a split second before something in his chest sinks with disappointment. He misses them both. 

"Listen I gave you more sprite than vodka because I know how you get, Shamu." Brady says softly, focusing more on the laptop than Sam.

They've both got their eyes on the laptop screen, the only light source.

Sam shakes his head, mumbling, "Dumbest fucking nickname." 

The movie drones on and on.

"I dunno, I think it's pretty accurate," Brady chugs about half his drink.

People on the laptop start screaming against dramatic background music.

"So dumb," Sam takes another delicate sip of sugary hell.

Brady lets Sam have the last word and they delve into watching the movie up until Sam's cell phone goes off. Brady hits pause as Sam reaches into his pocket and flips the thing open, "Hello?... Oh yeah, hey, what's up?... Umm, tomorrow morning? Uh, yeah, sure... No problem... It's fine, I need the money... Yeah, you too. Night." He shuts his phone and tosses it on the bed between them with a huge sigh, "Dave just called, drunk off his ass, asking me to cover his shift tomorrow morning."

Brady groans, "Aw c'mon that's not fair, we all know Dave's just getting drunk again."

"Yeah."

"Kinda wanted to like go out, have a chill morning," 

Sam notes Brady's disappointment and frowns, "Guess we'll have to settle for a chill evening." He pushes off the bed.

"Where're you going?" Brady whines. 

"Gotta pee," Sam disappears into the bathroom. 

Brady sighs, finishes the rest of his drink.

Sam's phone rings again and Brady spots the letter D. Brady purses his lips together and against his better judgement, he answers it. "Hey, how 'bout you stop taking advantage of Sam?... No, this is his roommate. Seriously though, we're both tired of your shit. Quit getting wasted and making him cover your ass..."

Sam comes out of the bathroom and nods at Brady, eyes curious. 

"It's just Dave," he holds the phone out for Sam to take.

Sam nods, grabbing the phone and pressing it to his ear, "If you ask me to do a double Brady's gonna punch me in the face, so the answer's no, man." He says before finishing the rest of his  ~~disgusting~~  drink off

" _Who the FUCK'S ass are you DOUBLING, Sammy? And why do you need permission? You got a master slave thing going on?"_

Sam chokes.

_"DON'T answer that."_

"DEAN-" Sam shouts oddly, confused and appalled.

Brady blinks, watching Sam, who is suddenly holding onto the phone with both hands. Without any clarification, Sam turns and leaves the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was brought to you by the song Malachite by Lydia Ainsworth


	9. BOUNDARIES

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean have a little bro-to-bro chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my brain is a dried up sponge

* * *

"So, Sam, I guess college really is just about getting drunk and having sex."

" _No, Dean-_  we just use different metaphors here. I was talking about _work_."

Sam's standing outside his dorm building because somehow it feels like the right thing to do. The night is dark. There's more than enough air for him to breathe out here just in case he runs low on it like he usually does when talking to Dean these days.

"... Riiiight. Well, you better be using protection, little brother."

"Not your concern," Sam blurts out harsher than intended.

Dean chuckles at that. "Hey look, maybe I'm not ready to be an uncle yet."

There's something about the word _yet_ that upsets Sam, so he decides it best to change the subject. "How are you? It's been a while."

"Really good, actually. How 'bout you, college boy?"

Sam frowns just a little deeper than before, every word out of Dean's mouth setting him further on edge. "I'm fine. Just watching a movie with my roommate."

"Yeah he freaks me out a little bit, not gonna lie." 

"He just thought you were my coworker."

"Huh. Sounds like you have a shitty coworker."

"I do." Sam swallows then, nodding. The conversation feels off. Feels fake. Frankly, he doesn't even know what else to say. 

"But it also sounds like you got yourself a good roommate. Nice of him to stand up for you like that. Is there a reason why you aren't doing that for yourself?"

Sam blinks hard, swallowing again but this time it's dry. "I _want_ to work. _He's_ the one who doesn't want me to."

"Why wouldn't he want you to work?"

"Because he likes hanging out with me." It shouldn't feel as good as it does to say, but somehow it does anyways. Honestly, Sam feels like he's thirteen all over again, one upping Dean in a way that actually makes him feel cooler.

"Speaking of, you mind if I visit you soon?"

"- What?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna be nearby soon. Was wondering if I could drop in and see how you're living."

"Why?"

"Am I not allowed to miss my little brother? What- you don't miss me?"

"Of _course_ I do. I miss you a lot." Sam's mind has gone suspiciously blank, stomach starting up its churning. The confusion he feels has everything to do with how awkward things _should_ be between them. Was Dean serious about things being _fine_? Doesn't feel fine if they only talk once every three fucking weeks.

Something feels so off. 

Dean keeps talking, casual and calm as ever. "It'll probably be sometime in the next week. I'll let you know the day before or something. Know you're probably busy these days."

"You know I'll make time for you and Dad."

Dean stays silent for a few seconds before saying. "Just me this time, actually." 

It catches Sam off guard, "Right."

"Sorry, Sammy, but you know how things ended with-"

"Can you not call me that?" Sam interrupts sharply. He licks his lips and wants desperately to change the subject. Unfortunately the only thing he can think of is Dean's boyfriend. "I only wanna see you, anyways." He says instead.

There's some heavy silence for a few moments too many. Finally Dean says, "Next week."

"Can't wait," Sam's voice cracks with relief as he says it.

"Arite, brother. Go get back to that movie with your crazy roommate, will you?"

Sam smiles, "Yeah. Night, Dean." 

"Night, Sam."

Sam shuts his phone. The moment feels surreal, night air clean in his lungs. Pathetic as it may seem, it's the best he's felt in months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was brought to you by "We Can Make The World Stop" by The Glitch Mob.


	10. COMING UNDONE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean arrives at Stanford for the first time!! Wahoo! He's hott, duh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's officially really late. i am brain dead as usual. I apologize for typos! i never proofread you see, i die like men. anyways i hope you enjoy.  
> and as always thank you for even clicking on this :)

"Dude, I'm so sorry. Thought it was Dave." Brady admits when Sam gets back to their dorm room. 

"I know, don't worry- my brother's cool." Sam shuts the light off and climbs onto Brady's bed again, refreshed and ready to finish their movie. Feels like he's glowing from the phone conversation he just had with Dean, from knowing that Dean would be visiting him soon. Can't wait to see him. Touch him. Smell him. It'll be the first time since he acknowledged his _crush_. ~~Or the fact that he's pretty much in love~~. Best part about it is Dean misses him too.

"His name's Dean, right?" Brady asks.

"Yeah."

"You don't talk about him much." Brady eyes Sam through the dark and it makes Sam feel mildly uncomfortable.

"There's not much to say about him. I haven't seen him in forever but he's visiting next week; you'll get to meet him."

 

* * *

 

Next week comes _crazy_ fast. The sight of the shiny black Impala pulling into a spot right near Brady's silver car causes Sam's rabbit heart to skyrocket into his throat.

It's _everything_. It's _home_. And there's Dean. 

Stepping out of the car like some kind of dream.

And Sam's only standing there, motionless, but he can feel the world come alive, can feel his senses adjusting- color more vivid, sound a little louder. Breathing feels more satisfying, somehow. 

"Therrre he is." Dean's voice is playfully stern as he rounds the car and heads towards Sam. 

Sam licks his lips and finds his shoulders slouching after having taken a huge breath. "Hey." 

Dean comes to a halt in front of Sam, eyeing him from head to toe and then back up again. Sam isn't sure why but he's nodding. After a few seconds Dean pulls Sam down into a hug, pressing their bodies together. Sam exhales into it, closes his eyes. 

And maybe he doesn't let go right away, but Dean doesn't either. 

All the words are inside Sam's chest, moving around faster than usual but still somehow unable to reach the surface as he lets Dean hold him. He moves his arms too, holding Dean against him. Dean isn't wearing his leather jacket so all Sam can really smell is the Old Spice and the faint scent of his brother's sweat. His mouths waters damn near instantly and he realizes it wasn't just a fluke. 

He really has it in for his _own_ brother, and he could _not_ care less about how wrong it is- not with Dean's arms around him. Doesn't care about anything except the way _this_ feels.

Finally Dean pulls away and Sam reluctantly lets him. They look at each other and Sam swears Dean's eyes are glossy. All he says is, "It's been months." 

And Sam has to smile at that. He replies, "I know," nodding with amusement in his eyes. 

"How you doing? You okay?" 

And Sam loves that tone on Dean, that hesitant unsure tone. That sad look. Sam needs more. "Better with you here." Wastes no time trying to hide the depth in his voice, the pure need.

And Dean hears it, Sam knows he does because he sees Dean's throat bob as he swallows. 

"Show me where you live, man!... Or we just gonna stand here all day?"

Sam breaks into a nervous laughs, smiling bright as ever, "Yeah, yeah- c'mon, I'll show you." 

 

* * *

 

 

Once they're inside, Sam does the whole introduction thing fairly fast. Neither of them say a whole lot to each other but Brady can't take his eyes off Dean, and both Sam and Dean notice this. It gets a little awkward. 

"So I'm really sorry about that phonecall last week." Brady mentions.

Dean's making a _no-worries_ face before Brady can even finish speaking and waving his hand, " _Someone's_ gotta look after little Sammy, am I right?"

Brady only grins and nods at the joke while Sam stares curiously, genuinely trying to figure out what had gotten into Brady. He turns back to his big brother and says, "Actually, Dean, _you're_ the smallest one in this room."

"Yeah, well, I'm the oldest. Most experienced."

"When's your birthday?" Sam asks Brady, curious to see if he's at least older than his roommate.

Brady doesn't answer. Doesn't even look like he heard the question. 

Meanwhile Dean takes a seat on Sam's bed and starts to take in the tiny dorm room surrounding him, and as annoyed as Sam is at Brady's obvious lacking functionality around Dean, he can't help but notice how fucking cute Dean looks in a college setting.

 _Cute_.  ~~Ugh~~.

Sam has to force himself to resist the urge to touch, something he swears he never _felt_ before. ~~Realizes that _before_ , when he was a kid, he used to touch all the time anyways~~. ~~And Dean _let_ him~~.

It suddenly hits Sam that he's staring just as blatantly as Brady is when Dean gets up and mutters that he'll be right back, just needs to use the bathroom.

Immediately Brady hisses softly, " _Your brother is fucking_ _hott_." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally listened to "coming undone" by duran duran for this - a classic


	11. IMPASSE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh jeez

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... enjoy the sexual tension

Things go badly, and then they go terribly. Afterwards, they somehow manage to get worse.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the dorm visit goes slightly more awkward than anticipated. It gets cut short because Sam isn't thinking clear enough to act in whatever way would be considered normal given the situation. Too confusing, too much unsaid thickening in the air making all three of them uncomfortable. 

Sam and Dean end up walking through campus for a bit. It's a weird kind of small talk hell that makes Sam feel more anxious than excited to be near his brother. Dean doesn't bring up anything even remotely related to that Sam's romantic confession, so Sam doesn't either. Pretending it never happened starts to hurt after a while. 

It hurts even more when they get back to Sam's dorm building and Dean says, "I'll be in town for a few days so I say we meet up again tomorrow." 

"Where're you going?" It shouldn't take Sam by as much surprise as it does. It really shouldn't. What did he think? That Dean would sleep on his dorm room floor? 

"You know, I'm still hunting here," Dean fondly clarifies with a gaze too soft to be anything but joking.

"I know, I guess I just... haven't seen you in months." And yeah, Sam realizes his argument is childishly weak the second it leaves his mouth, but he's too dumbstruck to try and make much more sense than that. 

Dean stays silent, gaze slipping off of Sam to scan the area a bit. 

Now that Sam's no longer blinded by excitement and anxiety, it hits him that Dean's been quiet this whole time, and Sam has no idea what Dean's feeling outside of all the basic small talk they've made. Sam has no idea about the shit that _really_ matters. Worse yet, he knows he can't ask. Knows he's somehow not allowed to until Dean gives him permission to - and Dean's not.

Dean meets Sam's eyes, voice a little softer as he says, "Yeah well, I won't let that much time go by again."

"It's not your fault. And I wasn't accusing you." Sam feels like half his energy has been drained. "I'm just saying. It's been a while and I miss you. Was  hoping we could spend some more time together." 

Dean starts to slowly shake his head but then just drops his gaze, "I got some stuff to do, maybe I'll swing by later if you're not busy with your new friends." 

"Dean, I don't even have work. I cleared this week for you."

There's a slightly disgusted look on Dean's face. "Why would you do that?" 

It's something that Sam definitely can't stomach, makes him feel so sick that he isn't even sure how to respond. He can't help the way he snaps. "That's typically what people _do_ when they have visitors."

Dean grins for a split second, "You're really milking this whole _normal_ lifestyle, aren't you?"

It takes a deep breath and a whole lot of will power for Sam to keep his mouth shut. 

"See the thing about hunting is people's _lives_ are at stake, and that's not the kinda thing you can put on hold for a week."

"Jesus Christ-" Sam mutters angrily, " _Seriously, Dean?_ " 

Dean's jaw clenches and then he's shaking his head and turning away from Sam, starts towards the Impala's driver's side. He shoots Sam a quick glance before he ducks into the car and starts the engine. 

Sam watches him drive off, heart hammering. 

 

* * *

 

Whatever optimism Sam feels towards making up with his brother tomorrow dies that night in a pub. 

Brady drags him out because that's what good friends do. They sit at a booth and split a pitcher of light beer. Sam decides to splurge on a couple shots and once more promises Brady that he's not an alcoholic, he swears. 

"Seriously, this really isn't like me. I think it's just, when it comes to my brother sometimes, I just... he's just." And then he downs the liquor, as though that was explanation enough.

Brady nods slow, sipping on his beer. He purses his lips together and smirks, "I think it's cool that you and your brother are so close." 

Sam laughs bitterly. "Trust me, it's not." 

And that's the moment. That's when Dean chooses to walk into the same exact bar. 

Of course, somehow, miraculously, Sam notices immediately.  

His gaze catches on the way his brother's body moves towards the bar counter, simultaneously sleek and gruff. There's another man following him.

Dean's not alone. 

Brady's turning to spot what Sam is looking at but can't seem to be sure. He keeps trading looks between Sam and the bar. 

Sam's lips are parted as he watches how close the other guy sits to Dean. The other guy has dark hair. It's dark and it's thick, longish like Sam's. Sam's breathing picks up. There's no way that's _him_. It can't be _him_.

"Dude," Brady states flatly, "What happened?"

Sam's up and walking before Brady can get an answer. 

The walk towards Dean and _his boyfriend_ consists of some very serious tunnel vision. Sam's body feels huge and clumsy and his hand feels heavy when he pushes it hard into Dean's back, knocking his brother forward into the bar counter he's sitting at. The crowd notices but ignores their interaction for the most part.  

The guy next to Dean jerks his head to Dean and then over his shoulder to Sam, and Sam gets to look into _his gray eyes_ for the first time. He reaches for Dean, helping Dean find his center of balance again- touching Dean right in front of Sam like that's an okay thing to do.

Seething somewhat, Dean slowly turns his head until he notices that it's Sam. Then his entire expression eases and he turns fully. " _Sam?_ What the hell?"

Sam holds his stance, breathing harshly. "You ditched me, Dean."

"What are you _talking_ about?"

"You ditched your own brother that you haven't even seen in months for some guy-"

"Are you drunk? _Again?_ "

"That's your brother?" The other guy asks Dean as though Sam isn't even worth talking to. ~~And his voice~~. God, his voice. Sam has to shut his eyes for how much it grates on his nerves.

"Yeah, this..." Dean pauses, releases a breath, "This is Sam. Sam, this is Nathan." 

 _Nathan_.

"Why're you ignoring me, Dean? Is it cause of what I told you that night?"

Brady shows up then, standing next to Sam. "Hey," he raises his hand in what Sam momentarily renders the most awkward and inappropriate wave of the year. It goes ignored by the older hunters.

"You didn't come here to see me, did you, Dean? You're just here to meet up with _him_."

"Back off, Sam," Dean states clearly, expression soft and stern both. 

"Yeah, Sam, c'mon," Brady mumbles, reaching an arm carefully around Sam's shoulders. 

Sam's teeth are gritted as he watches his brother. "You're an asshole." 

"What's that, Sam?" Dean doesn't even try to hide his contempt. 

Nathan places a hand on the side of Dean's knee and Sam notices. _Stares_ at it.

Dean doesn't take his eyes off Sam. 

"Can't believe you right now." 

"You really wanna have this conversation, Sam?" Dean's trying Sam, and Sam hates how much he trusts his brother's tone, how much he trusts that Dean's  _definitely_ right and rarely ever isn't. 

But Sam also can't help how much he hates the situation. Dean should be spending the evening with _him_ , not with Nathan. "You're right. I actually don't. Don't wanna see you tomorrow either. Or ever." He tells Dean. "You two have your sick, fucking fun. I'm out." He breaks eye contact with Dean, avoids Nathan's gaze and turns with Brady by his side. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was brought to you by photographs and gasoline by framing hanley


	12. DOLEFUL

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the next day rolls along. things get better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i originally started writing this for a completely different reason than my current mindset.. so like now i'm just like - really open to wherever this story wants to go lol. 
> 
> ima be straight up with you this was written to help me get over a crush i had on someone. but now im just kinda over it. but you know what i mean, like i felt extremely limited about what i wrote before and like it's just not good to base your writing on crap that is way too personal - or so i have learned. 
> 
> thanks to anyone who gives a crap about this pathetic piece of writing. if you like this then i fucking love you and want to go get a coffee with you and talk about life, tbh! this is my first time putting a story out there before really thinking any of it through and hey, it's a great experience. 
> 
> i love writing but i feel like im only just relearning how to do it ever since getting my heart broken like a dumbass.

Sam wakes up to three missed phone calls and three text messages:

[6:30] D: Come on Sam. Dont be like this  
[6:35] D: I think we should talk   
[6:35] D: Call me

He looks up from his phone and watches Brady sleep for a moment, mind surprisingly clear as opposed to throbbing with the hangover he expected. Then he remembers the way Brady shoved Tylenol down his throat and made him chug two bottles of water before bed. Sam breathes in deep, feeling more calm than he should, all things considered. Brady looks soft when he sleeps, blond hair mussed up against his pillow. It reminds Sam of Dean, actually. Though in his defense, Dean is pretty much the only other person he's been able to study while sleeping.

He gets up and moves into the bathroom, takes a piss and brushes his teeth before he sits on the toilet seat cover and calls Dean. 

"Hello." Dean's voice.

Automatically, Sam drops his head and leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Yeah, hey." 

"We need to talk." 

"I know." A part of Sam is shocked that Dean even cares enough to want to.

"Come to my room."

Sam's heart stutters. "I can't, I don't have a car. Where're you even staying?"

"Oh, right. I'll pick you up then. Be ready." 

"Dean-" but the line breaks off and Sam pulls the phone away from his ear, glancing at it before he flips it shut. Sam throws on his pants from the night before but doesn't bother changing out of his sleep shirt. It's comfortable and loose on him and at this point, he's just  _way too tired_. 

 

* * *

 

True to his word, Dean shows up a few minutes afterwards. Sam's leaning against Brady's car massaging a kink in his neck when Dean pulls in. He braces himself before stepping towards the black vehicle. Even just reaching for the car door handle inspires a warm-cold nostalgia that feels more dangerous than it does anything else. He slides into the passenger seat and immediately gets mentally slammed with too much. Dean's right there but Nathan's on Sam's mind; how Nathan probably sits here now, how familiar Nathan probably is with this car, how intimate even. 

Dean's watching Sam with an intensity that Sam's already wishing he could escape. "So," he begins. 

"You love me." 

Sam nods despite the pitter patter rhythm that his heart assumes. 

Dean starts to drive, reversing them both out of the parking spot and getting them onto the road. 

"Where're we going?" Sam's voice is still raspy with sleep. 

"If we're gonna talk about this we're not gonna talk about it _here_  in this fuckin' place." Dean's tone is harsh and Sam suddenly feels like he's a child about to be scolded for throwing his veggies out or something. And it's fucked up that Dean's both people in each of these mental scenarios despite how different they should be.

They drive in silence. 

 

* * *

 

The motel room is run of the mill, but slightly less tacky than Sam's memory serves. Dean's duffle bag is inside along with his dirty clothes and a used bath towel, newspaper and gun cleaning supplies on the table. It's dark and dank, window shutters closed, air stale. Dean shuts the door behind them both and it hits Sam just how horrified he really is of this life. How this life is _still_  his own _,_  and strangely in that moment, it feels like it's grasping onto him, refusing to let go. Terrifying and comfortable, the pain is soothing.

"So what does it mean?" Dean interrupts Sam's thoughts, causing Sam to shift his focus onto Dean. "You wanna kiss me, you wanna touch me? See me naked? What does it mean exactly, what were you going for with that whole thing?"

Sam licks the inside of his teeth and wills himself to stay calm. Usually it's him who loses his cool and not Dean, but in that moment he remembers how much it helps when one of them can manage to stay calm. "It's not like that, Dean."

"Sammy, if you weren't my brother and you came at me with all that bullshit, you'd never hear from me again." 

It stings sickeningly. "Doesn't it make it worse that I _am_ your brother?"

"Yes."

"You can still drop me, man. What's the point of all this?" 

"You are my _BROTHER_ , Sam- my _brother_. Which part of that don't you get?"

Sam finds himself giving a careless shrug of his shoulders. "If _that_  is the issue... then why did you say you were sorry for the timing." 

"You don't think I felt it too? You don't think I-" Dean turns away then, ripping his jacket off and tossing it onto the bed which he then proceeds to sit down on. "Tell me something? How many people do you know who're currently dating their brothers or sisters? Backstreets of the south not included."

"It's not like that, Dean." Sam repeats. "You know exactly what it's like."

"Then why'd you leave?" Dean immediately counters. "Why'd you take off to go to college?"

The question stuns Sam. 

"What made you think I could go on without you, Sam? What made you think _that-_ was okay? And then to come at me... _months_ later. After you'd already left. After I'd only just _started_  getting over you..."

"Getting  _over_ me?"

"I didn't think it was like that for you."  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was brought to you by perm by bruno mars, which just reminds me of shitty dancing just in general. like i feel like anyone can dance to that song and not look stupid no matter what.


	13. PANIC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little talk about that "I" word we try not to use.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, so thank you to everyone who is reading this. as always, it means everything to me that i can bring some entertainment to your life :) i hope you enjoy this chapter, and i hope you are having a lovely af day.

~~_I didn't think it was like that for you_~~.

There is no doubt in Sam's mind that he'll be replaying these words over and over, and over again. They are the kind of words that provide a hopeless kind of light- one where, for a split second, you see the threat of danger standing right in front of you just before it goes black again. Like hell can Sam even find the words to reply. Strangely, of all the things, his heart thuds hard and fast with the knowledge that _incest_ has suddenly become so very real and relevant to his life. And though his stomach somersaults like an ocean during a storm, the incest part of this doesn't sicken him in the least. He figures that's most people's claim who participate in it; that they're involved in something much deeper, something so special. 

"Sammy?" Dean sounds concerned if not desperate, maybe a little annoyed with Sam's decision to completely zone out.

It's just too much to immediately process, but Sam forces himself back to the moment and it's a fucking difficult thing to do Strangest sensation- like moving his mind back into sync with his body in order to actually move. Next thing he knows he's easing down onto the mattress to sit next to Dean, his brother. His brother. His brother. And he's reaching over-

Dean catches his hand, demanding firmly, " _Sam_." 

"What?"

"No." Dean says sternly, and then a little more softly, "I'm _with_ someone else."

"You just said-"

"I buried it, Sammy! Whatever _that_ was? It's over. Everything I felt for you. It's over. It's not right, and I don't feel it anymore. You're just... going through a similar thing. And I get it. I _understand._  Just don't worry. It'll pass." Dean does a little more than release his hold on Sam's forearm, sort of flinging it back at Sam. Then he straightens his posture a bit and looks away, eyes on the wall, on the ceiling, on the dresser. Sam notices the way Dean's throat rolls when he swallows. 

Once more, Sam has no idea how to process Dean's words, but knows that he somehow  _needs_ to. His mind is rushing every which way, desperate and needy and disappointed all at once. Stupidly, he murmurs, "I wanna kiss you."

Dean shoots him a heated glance that could feed fire. "No." 

Then Dean gets up, standing awkwardly with no where to go. He presses his hands against his jeans, rubbing them down into his back pockets. Sam watches, mesmerized, "That's why you brought me here." 

"God damn it, Sam, no. _No_. I brought you here so I could talk to you about this and that's _it_."

"Dean... this isn't normal. Not for _both_ of us to feel this way."

"Jesus, Sam, cut it with the _normal_ shit, man."

"It's _incest-_ "

Dean pulls a less than mature expression, chiding aggressively, "I fucking _know_ what it's called, Sam,"

"-but it's just another lie about reality. Another thing about the world that no one's supposed to find out about." Sam finishes.

"The hell do you mean?" 

"Something like this, like loving you- _my own brother_ \- how is this any different than finding out monsters are real?"

Dean's eyebrows are lifted with confusion. He shakes his head slow.

"It just makes sense to me, Dean." Sam gets up and Dean immediately looks away, anywhere but at Sam. Sam stands still, doesn't make a move to touch or invade Dean's space. Clearly his brother is uncomfortable and Sam's pretty sure he's done and said enough to merit Dean's hatred, doesn't need to tally anymore points in that category. 

"Well, it shouldn't. Especially since I'm with Nate now. You gotta get over this, Sam, _please_."

"You want me, and you've always wanted me."

"Don't-" Dean's blinking hard, shifting his gaze downward.

"You've already admitted it without admitting it, _twice_."

"What does that even mean...?" Dean rolls his eyes, declaring, " _Fine_ ," and then straightens his back yet again, squaring his jaw as he looks up to Sam. "Thing is: I don't want you _anymore_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was brought to you by true romance by parov stelar. they're just a great band in general, def worth checking out for ethereal, modern sounding beats


	14. HONESTY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The intense conversation continues, the boys are- for once in eternity- honest with each other, kind of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been about a week since my last update? i am sorry. i missed this so much. i missed writing so much. i wont let it go that long again =D i love this too much !!! i hope everyone is doing amazing and having the best goddamn day of their lives. i hope this chapter entertains you for a few mins. i hope it makes you smile and or shake your head in frustration. 
> 
> (i think it's getting to be time for some explicit stuff, what do you think?)

"You say you don't want me _anymore_?" Sam reiterates and Dean nods. The rejection should hurt way more than it does, but there's something all too sweet about knowing that Dean _did_ want him in this way at some point, and Sam couldn't help but ride the high it gave him out. Sam continues with, "Then can I just ask you one thing?"

"And then you'll drop this forever?" 

Sam notes how childish Dean sounds and it hurts something in his chest. He says, "Yeah, never bring it up again if you just answer one question."

Dean hesitates before giving a single nod. There is something painfully vulnerable in his eyes and Sam knows, now more than ever, how completely taken he truly is. How the pain he feels for Dean will always be sweeter than any pleasure anyone else could even offer. 

"When did you fall out of love with me?" Sam asks gently.

Dean holds eye contact with Sam for another second before looking down but not quite away. His eyes bore into the front of Sam's t-shirt as he seems to chew on the inside of his lip. 

Sam doesn't mind being under Dean's scrutinizing eyes, doesn't mind it one bit as long as Dean's attention is on him. This feels right; the way it's supposed to be. And shit, it feels good to be okay with that, even if it is just a temporary feeling. Riding a high. Even if it is just something he'll have to shove away later --- even if it is most of the reason why he left for Stanford in the first place. It feels good to be honest with himself. _Yes- Sam feeds off of being the center of Dean's world._

"It'll always be there. You're my little brother." Dean brings himself to look into Sam's eyes as he says it and Sam doesn't look away.

"So a few months ago? When I left for Stanford?" Sam asks.

Dean breaks eye contact again, this time looking down to the floor. "I'm proud of you, Sammy. I mean, look at you. Making something of yourself. You know, it's funny -- sometimes I think about how you and Dad both got to live different lives outside of the whole hunting thing. Kinda makes me feel like--" He stops himself from talking, nearly rolling his eyes, "Point is: I'm _glad_  for you. And I don't resent you, okay? I just want you to-"

"But you don't want me anymore."

Quietly, Dean murmurs, "Can't have you like that, little brother." He ducks his head and moves past Sam. "You never told me you were into boys." He announces a little more loudly once he's at the fridge, pulling it open, "Since when? I mean I always knew you were a girl but this is like - next level."

Sam practically deflates at the way Dean's walls just shoot right up. He turns to face Dean and is confronted with a beer getting shoved at him. Sam takes it from Dean and releases a huge sigh. "Remember the night I found out you were gay?"

"M'not gay, Sam. Yeah, I remember."

Sam hesitates, annoyed. He holds back shouting about how Dean's fucking a dude named Nathan and says, calmly as he can, " _Bisexual_ , then."

Rolling his eyes again, Dean says, "I remember telling you I wasn't gay. Why?"

Sam blinks his eyes, feeling his enthusiasm flatline. Once more he holds back the comment about how Dean is currently dating a guy, "I guess that was the night I started thinking that I was allowed to like other boys." 

Dean's expression tightens. "So you're saying this is my fault?"

"Guess so." 

"Huh."

"I couldn't stop thinking of you with another guy. Couldn't stop thinking 'bout you doing those things." 

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" Dean asks, and the question takes Sam by surprise. 

"I think I was too jealous. Didn't wanna hear about it."

Dean nods, his eyes filled with a blankness that Sam just _knows_ means he's holding back. _The timing really is bad_ , Sam decides.

"I know I said I'd drop it," Sam continues, "But I just need you to know that I'll always want you. _Always_." Sam lifts the bottle to his mouth and pulls a sip out of it as Dean watches. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't listen to any music for this. i'm like, sitting in a starbucks surrounded by endless murmur-chatter


	15. MOVING ON

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I haven't written this in a while.  
> SO HERE I GO, back at it again with vans damn daniel 
> 
> recap:  
> 1.) sam told dean he loved him, dean said the timing was off bc dean had a boyfriend wow  
> 2.) sam was totally upset for a couple weeks  
> 3.) then dean visited him and it just made things more awkward because sam's jealous and dean's "pretty serious" about this random guy named nathan. 
> 
> that's all you need to know. Let's move forward with this particular story.

**OCTOBER 31st; First Halloween at Stanford**

It's just about _two months_ into Sam's first semester at Stanford.   
And it's been roughly _five weeks_ since Dean's visit.

Five whole weeks since that piece of shit visit. Thinking about it now still made Sam feel all sorts of terrible. And it'd be a lie to say that Sam didn't lay in bed and think about Dean and Nathan every goddamn night. How the two of them had all the freedom in the world to pick and choose motels, fuck on whatever surface they pleased in between monster murder trips. Felt like the plot of some kind of bad porno.

"No Sam, you _are_ going to the party tonight. You're going!" It seemed as though there was no escaping Brady's persistent attitude and so Sam had resigned pretty early on, dreading the party for days on end. 

Now it was 7:30 and he was trying on different shirts, matching them against his tan khakis. Brady stepped up behind Sam and pressed his hand against Sam's thigh. "These have got to go, Sammy."

Sam internally cringed at the nickname. Okay so maybe it was kind of external. 

"Seriously," Brady persisted, "Take them off and put on your costume. The goal is to get laid, but not in the sense where someone's in a casket."

"They're beige not _black_." Sam fired off. 

"Guess that'd make _you_ the one in the casket." Brady bit back.

"Fine." Sam tore his shirt off and shoved his trousers down, straightening up to stare at his nearly naked body in the mirror. Faded black stripes streaked across his boxers in an outdated design. Brady grabbed at them causing Sam to flinch away from his touch. 

"Lose the boxers!" Brady laughed.

Sam hesitated. "What's wrong with them?"

"You're going to gross some poor girl out is what's wrong with them."

"What? They're fine!"

"Go commando." Brady winked. 

"No."

"Yeah, c'mon -- live a little." Brady moved in close to Sam, who protested as Brady reached and clung, tugged and pulled, wrestling them right down Sam's long legs. 

"This is crazy."

"Dude, wear sweatpants."

"I don't _own_ any."

"Wear mine!" Brady demanded, "Look at that cock, bro. Missed opportunity if you don't go commando in sweatpants to this party."

Sam began to shake his head, face red as a cherry as he covered himself as casually as he _could_.

But of course Brady wouldn't let him say no to a chance to open up --- get a taste of what it was to be a college kid, one who wasn't completely heartbroken. (And/or tarnished with deeper family issues that Brady felt as though he might want to stay out of.) 

Sam ended up sporting a loose pair of dark gray sweats, rolled once so they settled that much lower on this hips. He wore an old t-shirt instead of anything fancy, one that, even as small as it was, fit a little loose. Both sleeves were rolled up a little because the room where the halloween party took place was totally hot even with the doors and windows opening up every once in a while. 

"Nice costume, Sam," Girls teased him. Sam swore they were making fun of him but Brady assured him that they weren't. 

"Trust me. _You_ wearing that _is_  a costume all on its own.

Sam felt like a puny slutty jock, lanky and relaxed. Brady wore an army costume, dressed to go off to war. 

"I feel like a douchebag."

"Yeah, you look like one." 

"You look like a war hero and I look like a gay porn star."

"You watch a lot of that, do you?" 

Sam laughed, shaking his head as he glanced down, long hair falling to cover his face. Both the boys made their way to a table and took seats, Sam following Brady more so than actually knowing where he was going. This was his first real college party since attending university. Up until now he hadn't exactly been in the mood to celebrate anything, especially if it could potentially result in some kind of romantic or sexual connection. He'd been far too upset about Dean -- even _school_ was difficult to focus on. For Christ's sake, he felt like he was sliding steadily along a new, but not entirely unfamiliar wave of deeply maddening depression. 

If not for Brady being Sam's roommate, Sam definitely wouldn't be here at this Halloween party tonight. There was so many people around them and Sam recognized a few faces, even recalled a few names, managing to pair a few of them up or at least attempting to. However for the most part the only person he really knew tonight was Tyson Brady. 

In all honesty he wasn't really all that interested in making any new friends. 

"C'mon, Sam." Brady muttered, "Do you even realize how hot you look in your slutty frat boy costume."

"Ha _ha_." 

Brady gently knocked his elbow into Sam, "I'm serious. You should try to score tonight. It'll help you get your mind off of... whoever it is you're stuck on."

Sam's expression went a bit solemn but he didn't respond.

Brady noticed the silence and turned to face him more. "I'm serious, Sam. You've gotta snap out of this whole-" he gestured, "- _thing_."

"With who? Last thing I need to do is get someone else hurt because my feelings are shit."

Brady watched Sam for a moment, not sure what to even make of Sam's words. "You're so gay."

"I'm bi."

"No, I mean... just get your dick wet. It doesn't have to mean anything. It can just be for relief."

"I need a drink." Sam immediately responded, processing Brady's logic even though he didn't want to. "Get us some liquor."

Finally, a grin broke across Brady's chiseled features. " _Now_ you're talking, baby."


End file.
